"captivation" poems
SPRING
I slowly unfurl to the World
Stretching up to the sky blue
And sense an early morning chill
Of Spring waking me anew.
Each day grows a little warmer
As daylight hours extend
Making this leaf feel fresher,
Tothe bright sunlight I bend.
SUMMER
I’m at my most greenest now,
Hot sun burns upon my veins;
How glad am I to finally enjoy
Those cooling, copious rains.
At which point, I pour in drips,
A refreshing, rousing trickle
That falls on grass and buttercup
Teasing them with a tickle.
AUTUMN
Mists have now arrived, enshrouding
My form with heavy dew;
The greens has all but leached away,
Bled from veins no longer new.
Down below the tree are vivid reds
Browns and translucent golds
Which, increasingly each day now
People their captivation holds.
WINTER
The first frost of Winter
And a biting, northerly breeze
Cut into me,and scores of others
Were torn from their trees.
I’ve fallen now, to the ground
All wrinkled, and utterly fragile
Awaiting my final hour
Until, I meet my funeral pile…
Jan 20, 2012
Jan 20, 2012 at 1:50 AM UTC
Diminutive in frame and stature
defines him not, but instead enhances the
brilliance of his smile’s shine.
The golden flakes of honesty in his warm brown eyes
covey one vice that is captivation.
They hold hostage your most destructive thoughts
to instantaneously
replace them with the best; of
joy, contentment, and love-the best of him.
His high cheek bones define a mouth
so perfectly constructed.
They rise and fall like oceans’ waves with
every gentle gesture.
He thinks of love as a pool of chances
and illogically
he dives into the hurt he’s found himself in once
twice, no wait, three times.
But still, he never falters to give “chance”
just one more chance to prove he’s done what’s right.
Secondary comes his needs, in light of someone else’s.
The thoughts, “too tired” or “too busy” does nothing for him because
if someone needs help, you help them undoubtedly.
I have seen the coat that once
cascaded on his back give warmth to one
who had no coat
or smile
or joy
or light.
And for that one he lowered his head
to ask God for a favor.
I met this guy, this “perfect” guy when innocence consumed me
and since that day we’ve been each other’s confidant and comforter.
My love towards him supersedes that of a friend or
the best of that.
The truest thing I know is that when everyone one else
disappears to the mundane norms of life,
he will be there with me to cut through
the silence with rolls of laughter.
At what? It does not matter.
Because when I’m with him and he’s with me
there is a “we” that is formed and that “we” is captivates me
An infinite truth is that I will never stop
loving this young man.
He keeps my heartbeat steady so I
must exclaim the best of
joy, contentment, and love-the best of him.
Nov 18, 2014
Nov 18, 2014 at 4:25 AM UTC
Are acceptance and approval synonymous terms? It is important that we give adequate definition to that which blocks our winding garden path, where foxgloves, lupins and a multitude of botanical dreams can blossom into a gorgeous array of ****** captivation.
If we embrace that which is repugnant, then possibility may not be confined to the cradling arms of the mistress of death.
So, my judgmental and moralistic companion from the sands of Jupiter – if your daughter is a raunchy stripper, then keep your expectations on the leash and preserve your anthropological connectedness, otherwise you may veer into prickly thorns of certain detriment and thereby lose her attachments.
It is incumbent upon us to nourish those fragrant plantations with a careful approach, so that beautiful reproductions will abound in a bouquet of resolution.
Nov 7, 2013
Nov 7, 2013 at 12:23 AM UTC
Your face, full of elation.
Sweet perfection, no frustration.
Summer memories, nostalgia hemorrhage.
Let's stay here, far from Anchorage.
What you've taught me, you might never know.
Wherever you are, that's where the wind blows.
Currently, these currents take me to you.
An act, time and again, time could never subdue.
While we do reside in the days long after,
Never could these months be a diminishing chapter.
I can feel them still, as relevant as ever.
The prime cultivation for something that will grow forever.
Close your eyes, I'm sure you can see those nights.
When loves only concern was to avoid a sugar spike.
This new captivation, this magnified fixation,
The love savior, our separate emotional asphyxiation.
That innocence needs not be continually longed after,
Because for now we shall continue writing, until we reach our final chapter.
Aug 15, 2014
Aug 15, 2014 at 9:43 PM UTC
Stop me if you've heard this before
but I feel this feeling fleeting,
running opposite me
to lands unknown
where lost dreams go to die.
Why are words so fickle? Leaving at the lightest touch,
the barest hint of anything new.
A world, undiscovered,
lies within a place I can reach only when I am most bare.
My purest form of self,
mewling and screaming,
pulls from me this insatiable insanity.
Yet with the slightest digression my sleeves roll themselves down
and it's gone again.
I am lost into reality like some suited being,
honking at the other monkeys in futile attempts to make up for lost time.
Was it worth it?
Is that loss of captivation worth an ounce of conversation?
Bring me back to that place.
I want to feel the pen warming between my fingers again.
That smooth ink feel on dead, life-giving friends.
Is this the closest I can get to holiness?
Oct 4, 2018
Oct 4, 2018 at 4:47 PM UTC
she has spent eternities despising herself
searching in the mirror for the existence
of an ethereal reflection
staring back into her ocean eyes
whispering soft lullabies
an abundance of external lies
for it could never match
the true beauty and radiance
that resides inside
the most impeccable love story
is the one she holds with herself
for when she comes to realize
the resiliency of her bones
the captivation of her words
the radiance of her dance
and the effervescence of her energy
she drips in empowerment
like sweet honey
drips from the wildflower
Apr 25, 2020
Apr 25, 2020 at 1:14 AM UTC
1. it's not healthy for my heart to run miles on a few drops of water.
2. you make my mind and body curious.
3. my eyes are sleepless from unanswered questions.
4. i love incorrectly.
5. i want to build my home in the unsurveyed land of your heart.
6. i can't crown an adjective with your name.
7. you are too blind to see the effects of your spell.
8. confusion and comfort don't seem as different anymore.
9. i don't know if i'm just lonely.
10. you simultaneously incite my captivation and confusion.
11. you can stifle my anger.
12. i miss something that was never mine.
13. you take me out of the present.
14. you are a stain that I cannot remove.
15. i'm surprised that I still trip for you when we cross paths.
16. i poured my heart out to you, i'm unsure if you accepted it.
17. my mother says she adores you.
18. since you give me no answer, my imagination makes answers for you.
19. i fear that you are turning into my tattered safety blanket.
20. you are running within every inch of my skin.
21. you called me lovely.
22. i take things personally nowadays.
23. i wear my heart on two sleeves because it has made a space for you.
24. i am wandering around an abandoned refugee camp for my sustenance.
Oct 11, 2013
Oct 11, 2013 at 2:32 AM UTC
In captivation I seated myself
Like that of a coaster ride
Leaving my morals and my sanity behind
The notion of such adventure led me blind
through wasted times I lost all purpose the sense to focus with open feelings floating in the surface
With earnest genuine of my excitement and my nervous
Night falls
Quicker than wood left burning in the furnace
Like the ashes of memories that once were, left to dissipate forever all across the ocean
Synchronized in motion you managed to reach shore
Whether unaware or inability to care you left me drowning in emotion
Sunk for years that I was
That your presence left me like an alcoholic that your absence kept me drunk
Swimming through barriers of heartaches to believe you were the one
And I was done..
searching through the abyss of all seas
Rising to new surfaces in hopes that I could breathe
Knowing that in you I'd never come to reach,
the finding to know love..
Jul 25, 2018
Jul 25, 2018 at 11:06 PM UTC
I am a jigsaw puzzle…
Packaged, broken down and oddly pieced.
Vivid colors. A curious captivation.
Although… with time they have faded…and creased.
Handed down like an antique quilt.
Fragile and warn, only portions of my picture complete.
Left wondering if I will ever be seen as one.
Admired as whole, even with corners somewhat oblique.
So I set out on a journey:
Re-genesis of the soul.
Craving colors unimagined:
An apocalypse of the world of dull.
Along the way I caught a glimpse.
I unearthed Utopia.
A world lent only to dreams and fairytales.
Yet I couldn’t seem to give in and face this phobia.
I continued along my search.
This time with a new groove in my step.
Part of me wanted to turn back,
But that could’ve meant loosing the little I had left.
I felt something flowering within.
I may have looked away, but that moment a seed was planted.
Roots of strength embedding themselves into my soul,
A new chance at life finally granted.
Fresh oxygen to inhale,
As this life grows inside of me.
Battling with worry and yet no panic at all.
Something so charming and enormous, the world deserves to see.
Branches of love breaking through my surface,
A bungee cord tugs, than allots some slack.
Leaves of unwritten memories begin to evolve.
This budding life needs nurture…I need to turn back.
Before I can set foot to turn around…
Utopia at my fingertips.
Life, nurture…a wonderland unsought.
And that is all before the meeting of our lips.
Apr 9, 2014
Apr 9, 2014 at 1:10 AM UTC
I want what you have
I want your dreams; the ones that scare you shitless
I want your secrets; the ones you can’t share with anyone
I want the thoughts that keep you awake at night; the ones that excite you
I want the ideas you want to share; the ones you know you never will share
I need what you have
I need your arms around my waist; the arms that will never be there
I need your lips pressed against mine; the lips that mine will never touch
I need your ***** smile smiling at me; the smile that will never look in my direction
I need your stupid ugly khaki jacket around my shoulders; the jacket that will never be near me
I wish that I have what you have
I wish I had your idiotic confidence; the confidence that I will never get back
I wish I had your insanely smart brain; the brain that has put up barriers against me
I wish I had your annoyingly inappropriate jokes; the jokes that you stopped telling me
I wish I had your ability to captivate the world; the captivation you no longer use on me
I yearn for what we could have been
I yearn to have an unconditional love; one that will never break
I yearn to have uncontrollable kisses; ones that we are unable to stop
I yearn to have cheesy promposals; ones that make everyone jealous of us
I yearn for extravagant valentine's day gifts; ones that make me want to scream and cry
You don't want what I have
My dreams; the ones that will never happen
My secrets; the ones that will tear people apart
My thoughts that keep me up at night; the ones that can even terrify me
My ideas that I want to share; the ones that would wreak havoc on everyone
You don’t need what I have
My thick messy hair; the hair that constantly falls in my face
My ***** brown converse; the ones with the laces falling apart
My empty grey eyes; the eyes that stare straight at you watching you ignore me
My annoying voice; the voice that says ****** comments to protect herself from your friends
You don’t wish to have what I have
My brutal honesty; the honesty that burns bridges
My crazy distrust; the distrust that worries my mother
My unbelievable pessimism; the pessimism that causes people to leave
My need to control everyone; the need to control that consumes all of my thoughts
You don’t yearn for what we could have been
You don’t yearn for unconditional love; not with me
You don’t yearn for uncontrollable kisses; but with her
You don’t yearn to give cheesy promposals; you would do anything to be with her
You don’t yearn to give extravagant valentine's day gifts; you would give anything to be with her
No matter how much I want...need...wish...yearn for you
You will always be wanting, needing, wishing, and yearning for her more
She is the pulsing red dot you are moving towards
I am barely more than a blip on your radar.
Jan 20, 2018
Jan 20, 2018 at 1:34 AM UTC
Kissing me
Vicious was my scheme
I made a story of tainted glory
Anticipating his biding sincerity
Craving the touch of my hips
Misplacing perseverance
Delaying conscience
Losing rationality
Watching his admiration
Over compensating captivation
Realizing his conspiracy
May 13, 2016
May 13, 2016 at 9:11 PM UTC
i reach in and silently grasp
the motionless windsong
the captured bird
and with deft fingers release its bindings
with a phrase give tender to its
timid fire
with intent i set in motion the
captivation by slow roses
the freedom by the scarce better graces
of humanity's collective soul
the thoughts are sticky
engraved with each meaning softly embedded
into its thick skin
the carefully crafted box
of her smile
each detail lovingly attended
each lined honed with precision
she fine tunes her perfect form
and spray bottles the scents
one for public consumption
the other for me alone
enthrones her earrings in edible lobes
and with zealous care places a bead necklace
in the sweating sweet expanse of naked skin
of her open polo shirt collar
shakes out her hair
with a little version of dancing sitting down
while singing along with phish
and then she catches me open lustful staring
and laughs
'want some...come get it babe'
her tennis outfit
misplaced on the shopping center floor
is neatly wrapped around her in a mixture
of loose and tight
devious adventure for the eyes
Aug 4, 2013
Aug 4, 2013 at 6:49 PM UTC
He's cute.
His soul is beautiful, despite every imperfection, forcing me to crave the moments he opens up and takes me into it.
He has gorgeous brown eyes.
Under a layer of determination, arrogance and confidence, his eyes tell the story of rejection and self doubt. They are strong. They tell a story.
Messy hair, don’t care.
I’ve never known someone who could care less and seem so beautiful for it. Captivation without trying shows the true person.
His hands are strong.
Yet for every twisted weakness within, I can melt in his arms. I wish I could stay there forever.
Feb 15, 2015
Feb 15, 2015 at 11:36 PM UTC
cliche, boring, bland and weak
based upon a foundation of chic
pseudo-intellectual
you distract from your lack
with your apathetic crap
entomology and intonation
i call it character ************
you do it too often, many of you
just be who you are so we can shine through
i just have to get this off my chest...
your subject matter concerns love
who would've guessed
it rhymes and chimes and deliverance isn't best
and if one skims just beginning and end
there is no need for the rest
lacking originality
either resolve or contradiction
not cryptic nor a riddle in sight
not an original thought nor display of risk
you can learn here from this one write
what you could never tell east from west
and even though, you'll be better so
it will never be
as clever as thee
so just hide behind your traditional text
its not that i seek to pick on the weak
its quite the contrary-
start over with command
so you understand
it is the fraudulent that i detest
it is lack of interest and tact
and i won't take it back
your technique is as the rest.
you slack in approach
you couldn't hold my attention
from the first line
to the next
no captivation
no eccentricity
no enigma
flooding, you are, a pest
parasitic in your relentlessness
attention seeking for all the wrong reasons
leading poetry to its death
you bore me truly
insincerely yours,
unafraid to best.
Jul 20, 2012
Jul 20, 2012 at 6:28 PM UTC
I.
I used to be a crocodile.
I knew no risks, no tears, no joy
no excitement to lure me above water,
no work, for it was cut out for me
in the shallows with the small fish,
no heavens to make up for,
no hells to hope for,
no soul to shatter on mid-spring days
when all life is but a nightmare
and clouds are all but
******* on my head,
who granted to desired effect
that siren hoped for,
who sits upon the sandy shore
and whispers sweet songs to me, myself
evolved,
and repeats me back
the songs I taught her,
"Over and over again,"
she mocks.
How Neptune did churn his waters
to beach a loveless Odysseus here
shall ever be unbeknownst to me.
But
beeswax I have fixed in my ears,
but
now I cannot hear my other friends
in the trees.
but
once I make my flight from this island,
away from the crocodiles,
and starvation,
and sirens,
I will take it out, and
I will hear!
by God! I will hear
and be heard!
II.
No sound.
The siren's lips move;
the water recedes.
the sky grays.
the crocodiles come.
I am drawn near
by her lotus lips that bid me down this tree
but
I must not dismount.
but
a second siren in the trees
has been picking out my beeswax.
Two songs.
The reptiles draw ever nearer to
the siren, her song is the loudest.
The second siren sings a song
of warning and captivation.
I dismount the tree
to fight back the green menace, and save
the first siren.
I knew these fellows once.
They were my friends,
and now do I slay them.
I see only jaws and red blood now,
and now am I defeated.
The crocodile has taken her as prey,
so familiarly,
for I was a crocodile
once.
Jan 23, 2011
Jan 23, 2011 at 9:06 AM UTC
Dissatisfaction an empty abyss
Deep in now a well known limb
Hope severed, intangible, a ghost
Screaming without a sound
Bleeding without a wound
And these strings fatuously tuned.
Inebriate and stumbling through
an ocean of nobodies, all together, unseen
Without a purpose, an insect
Abiding another nobodies law,
Rebellion restricted by a Metropolitan claw
Steel bars in my own conscience
Dreaming the escape, yet alone
Soaring through time
Captivation doesn't last
A welcome blessing and an unintentional curse, yet alone
and innocence is now grown
Apr 22, 2013
Apr 22, 2013 at 8:34 AM UTC
The moment Your mind touches mine,
Implosion.
Explosion.
Captivation.
Complete and utter Devastation from Singular existence.
May 20, 2016
May 20, 2016 at 11:04 AM UTC
she whispers poetic metaphors
comprised of beautiful words
into thirsty ears
and watches as hungry eyes
become enveloped with stars
as they imagine the beauty
of her love
she tells them
¨he is the earth
and i am his moon
orbiting around him¨
orbiting for him
but
you see
an orbital´s path
is not paved by love
for she often asks herself
if she was really in love at all
or was it simply
his proximity
which so forcefully
pulled her in
for closeness
is what tore the moon
from her own established path
amongst the stars
when she encountered
the inescapable gravity
of another celestial body
the moon
diminutive and frail
in comparison
had no choice
but to succumb to the earth´s captivation
and redirect her path
to assume a new orbit
around a new focus
instead of progressing forward
she now knows nothing
but the same hideous loop
and like a scratched record
it repeats itself
over
and over
and over
and over
again
and every taste of freedom
simply brings her careening even quicker
around the next corner
until she becomes
all too familiar
with the same series of events
so she convinces herself
she's fallen in love
then that she's fallen
back out of it again
except
she hasn't really fallen anywhere
her mind simply adapts
a new narration
for the same spiral storyline
she never really loved him
for while they were close
momentum prevented their hearts
from ever truly touching
(for if the moon and the earth
drifted too close
they would collide)
and she will never know
now that she has become entranced
by a new planetary orbit
and as she tells the story
of how the moon
fell for the earth
the paradox of orbitals
was the perfect disguise
for her sinister love
x.
Jul 21, 2018
Jul 21, 2018 at 6:16 PM UTC
It was always 1907 Freight car
The Hobo would fall asleep in a freight car yard
Having no place to actually live
But a good heart that wants to give
However, the Hobo happens to be a noun and not an adjective
It was the Holy Smoke Freight yard that caught the Hobo’s attention
But this Hobo’s story is his own presentation
A Hobo broke and having no job
Negative reactions feeling like a mob
The Hobo once had a home
But he was yet all alone
The only thing he would do at this point was to continue to roam
The Hobo was one who always loved to travel
The thought of the entire United States with inspiration in captivation of marvel
So one freight car became the Hobo’s personal home
He travelled everywhere and got rest beyond compare
The Hobo travelled far
He got around without a car
The freight train would normally stop in a town or a nearby city
But numerous people had no pity
However, the Hobo didn’t pity himself
He refused to be like everybody else
He lived and rode the freight train as if it would be a lifetime
But the freight car was the Hobo’s space
A freight train having no problem with the Hobo ride
The Hobo lived his life in being his stride.
Mar 8, 2017
Mar 8, 2017 at 3:30 PM UTC
Grace from above
Blooms forth below exquisiteness
Swirling this human heart
Forth in symmetry
Of the clouds
Where thoughts may never go
If not driven by captivation
Of our Lords
**Exquisite **********
Jul 25, 2016
Jul 25, 2016 at 9:48 AM UTC
Does shiny hair really matter? Or painted nails?
Or glittering eyes? Or soft, soft skin?
Yes. For the initial rush, they have no match.
Undoubtedly we are familiar with the captivation, the dance.
The trouble is, there are only so many ephemeral rushes.
Until they become tired. No, not from the busy nights.
But then the freshness oozes forth and gushes like a river
The freshness, the capacity each has
to be a relief,
to sooth,
to put at peace.
There is nothing like it.
A college freshman, realizing what it all means.
It is a means to an appreciation. Yes, definitely from the busy nights.
The nights filled with getting to know someone
in the un-Biblical sense.
There is nothing quite like the yearning, the hunger.
The lust for understanding.
And let me tell you, there will be tiny lingering questions.
But they are not as important as the perpetual question:
How much did you love?
Dec 6, 2013
Dec 6, 2013 at 7:17 PM UTC
I know a Damsel in Distress.
Not in the sense of being bewitched or trapped in a castle far away.
Not lost, or stolen, or taken away.
She is surrounded by knights she deems peasants while she searches for a knight to take her away.
There are no warlocks, wizard, witches, or dragons in this tale.
No captivation, just her mind that locks her away.
I know a Damsel in Distress that I tried to save.
But she thought me a demon and pushed me away.
Oct 24, 2013
Oct 24, 2013 at 9:52 PM UTC
The artist chose concrete to sculpt The Kiss.
Playfully made the woman taller than the man,
his gaze uplifted, filled with total captivation ---
lemur eyes, mustached smile, desire unmistakable.
Her arm about the nape of neck, hand caressing cheek,
certainly she cherishes him, intentionally stokes his passion.
Concrete the perfect medium for immortality.
This image implanted firmly, as I take my morning walk,
when it hits me, somewhere between Key Bank,
7-11 across the street, and John Deere lawn equipment,
why it is, women place such importance upon relationships,
why they love us, despite flaws numerous as wharf rats.
They have an unremitting need for romance.
That's what the sculptor knew and finally I do too.
Jul 7, 2012
Jul 7, 2012 at 8:46 PM UTC
Gold's untarnished yellow feigns
dawn's igniting of soft edges behind a mountain cloud,
or sunset's beacon flashing reflected from home's far window.
A diamond's clear flash imitates
bright glints of blinding sun across the afternoon shore,
or a star's brilliantly precise ray through eternal night.
A sapphire's velvet marine resembles
the limitless horizon between azure sky and tropic sea,
or the vertigo of fathomless water below suspended feet.
An emerald's tantalizing green mimics
the vividly penetrating beam warming a rainforest's singular tree,
or the disarmingly beautiful captivation of a strangers eyes.
A rainbow necklace of delicate gems pales
on a summer afternoon porch shaded by stately trees
and a butterfly sanctuary of whimsical flowers,
calm breezes stirring blue shadow leaves
brushing intimately on white shiny paint.
By accident these jewels mirror life's ephemeral essence
Grasping for this illusion to hold fast the spirit
distracts one from living.
One can cling to stones for one's life,
Or
One can live moments for infinity.
Dec 16, 2012
Dec 16, 2012 at 10:42 PM UTC
The sky was ablaze like glass in the church;
recumbent on stone floors / we had knocked out
the windows to let in only the blind light,
the blind arches that pointed heavenward, now yawning
narcoleptic houses of God grasping at sky and god
somehow / we captured daylight in our hands / we were
yearning for ourselves again between long hours of waiting
we believed in gods that breathed that great sky, we believed
in the breadth of cosmos more dazzling
than the church doors that we blew asunder
in that latter architecture where we decided the height
& breadth of the pillars in their proportions like
the proportions of man, exhausted & exaggerated,
man exalted, exaudi, exaudi, voca meam quam olim Abrahim
praises to all our lords on high, we sang in drunk
communion hailing, our communion with one another,
all of us there on the stone flags, hands in hands
we beat at the chests of each other, the eyes of each other
(we were just kids beating off to one thing or another)
and it was *** and chaos between those stone walls, it captured
us, bewildered us, those yawning heavens under the church ceiling,
the one that blazed with the dazzling color of windows
covered in dust like our skin the way it crept along the stone
and we craved it and the way that it seemed to creep,
the sky seemed to creep above us, seethed with light
some days we didn’t know which way was light, up
or lower down, it was usually easy to tell after you came
but we exhausted our voices, exaudi exaudi orationem meam
believing that something would hear us—we heard ourselves
more clearly in the throes of ****** nothing was more alive
more human, than anything, than anything that sang like that blazing
sky/ so we tossed ourselves forward into lightward, lightness
dazzling ourselves with light / it was the summer of everything closing /
the bewildering truth of our own god in cells and precious molecules
we made god in the throes of ****** worshipping in the dazzling sky
we had to propel ourselves forward, it was our stunning captivation
with that dazzling maze of flesh on the yearning sky, hands
searching inscrutably for hands, for god in the feverish sky, god
who doesn’t live in the sky, the god who climbs
with us, the god who screams in our ****** with us,
exaudi, exaudi, orationem meam, ad te omnes caro veniet…
Jan 8, 2012
Jan 8, 2012 at 11:46 AM UTC